


Something Stupid

by Isola_Caramella



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 05:21:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10937841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isola_Caramella/pseuds/Isola_Caramella
Summary: There is mad Jaime and then there is porn, the end.





	Something Stupid

**Author's Note:**

> This was also a drabble that made me appreciate those who write canon fics very much. 
> 
> I know nothing, only that this made sense when I wrote it (heh, I was likely post blood transfusion induced fever and hysterics so lots of things made sense). This is not betaed and shouldn't be taken seriously. There is smut and marginal feels.
> 
> A girl owns nothing

Jaime watches as the man in front of him gapes like a well hooked fish out of the Sunset Sea, face pale and wine goblet shaking in his hand. Addam stands beside him at the ready to gut the upjumped new lord of Castamere if Jaime will not.

"I'd be remiss not to hear your jest Lord Spicer, please share it again. Your men seemed much impressed."

"Lord Jaime, i-i-it was nothing ser, a mere jest for my men. Nothing at all to be concerned with."

"I'll decide what I need to concern myself with Lord Spicer; now please, let's hear it."

Rolph Spicer was by now almost as grey as his beard and Jaime was tiring of him. He'd held Addam at the door to let the man have his sport and continue his mocking. Jaime knew his lady wife would say nothing in her defense, sitting stiff and resolute on the dais next to her septa. He had yet to even look at her but he knew he'd find her head fixed firmly over her plate.

On his journey to King's Landing almost six moon turns ago he thought himself happy to be rid of his quiet and shambling giantess, ready to bury himself in Cersei for as long as his father had need of him in the capital. Like much else in his life, what he wanted was not what he got. For in his tent at night all he could dream of were astonishing blue eyes and tall, pale freckled flesh.

He'd done his duty as a husband perfunctorily and infrequently in the year of their marriage, knowing word would get back to his father's ear. He'd never known a woman other than Cersei and wanted no one else except her. But there was a gentleness in Brienne that Cersei could never replicate. She never refused him and never recoiled from his stump. His wife tolerated the golden hand but had no love for it unless they were sparring in the training yard. He'd thought of her every day on the road to King's Landing and every day he spent in the Red Keep.

When Cersei had refused him unless he wore the golden hand, he felt no loss. When Tyrion had informed him of her dalliances with their cousin Lancel, he found his anger was only a performance. The longer he was away from his wife, the more he realized how fond of her he was and what little hold his twin had remaining over him. She had what she wanted now, power and the ability to wield it without his sword hand.

To walk into Casterly Rock and find Brienne hosting some of their bannerman and lords while Lord Spicer openly mocked her made Jaime ache for a fight. He'd waited to see how far the man would go before making his return known.

As Jaime stood waiting for him to speak, he started whistling the Rains of Castamere watching as Lord Spicer grabbed the table in front of him in fear. It was never good to show weakness, worse to have a minor house headed by a former castellan think he could speak ill of his lady wife in her presence and those of his bannermen.

The room was deathly silent as Jaime grabbed the man by his throat, applying enough pressure to cut off his breathing. "Guest right prevents me from harming you now but know I'll have your tongue for this."

Addam went round the table to pick up the trembling man once Jaime loosened his grip. Escorting him out of the dining hall as he coughed and sputtered his apologies. The few in attendance with him were too terrified to do more than sit and look at their hands.

When Jaime finally looked at his wife all he could see was a healed scar across her cheek, his feet carried him to the dais before he could think. The maester had sent no ravens that indicated she had suffered an injury. He was before her in a few long strides, gripping her jaw firmly to tilt her head.

"What in the seven hells happened to your face?" He growled as he looked at her septa.

"There was an accident my lord." She breathed out quietly, she'd already been mocked enough for one evening and he could see the fight leaving her even as she held her spine straight.

Jaime took her hand and pulled her from her chair, glaring at the woman he'd entrusted her with and led her out of the dining hall and into his rooms. The servants had made quick work of lighting a fire and preparing clean sheets once the stable boys had alerted the house of his arrival.

"What happened to your bloody face?"

"I fell in the bath my lord, it was cut on the stone."

"Was no one there with you?" He felt sick then, thinking of her alone and bleeding.

"Septa Donyse was with me and made sure I did not drown my lord."

"When was this?"

"After Lady Shiera's Name Day feast, I felt ill and thought a bath would help. I fainted after a few moments."

"That was a fortnight after we left for King's Landing. Did you not think to send a raven that you could have died in the bath?"

"I did not think it would have mattered to you my lord." Her tone held far more than her evenly stated words.

His temper flared wildly at her, he'd spent almost six moon turns seeing nothing but her blue eyes, wide and panicked as they looked at him now. He took notice of her then, the blue dress that had been cut to suit her less than womanly figure. It was simple but emphasized what breast she had, which had grown considerably since he'd left.

"Come here."

She did as he bid and stood in front of him, shoulders tense as she waited. He ran his hand across her stomach, feeling the small swell instead of the developed muscles that he was used to. The flutter under his palm made his heart race.

" I left my men and rode hard to get back to you and not one word from you in return. I have a wife who almost died in the bath and a child on the way and not one word. If you'd died, what then? Would I deserve word then?"

"Yes my lord." Her broad homely face had the good grace to turn red.

"Take this off."

"Wh-what?"

"Either take it off or I'll tear it off of you." He watched as she stepped out of her slippers and out of the simple dress. It had no underskirts and she was left in her smallclothes. She came to him to work on the straps of his golden hand. Between the two of them he was out of his tunic and breeches with little trouble.

He wasn't sure if they could fuck but he needed to bury himself in something, his cock had only willingly risen of late when he thought of his large bride and it seemed eager now to find her again. It was hard and twitching as she turned her back to him to climb on his bed and hide under the sheets as quickly as possible.

She flinched when he ran a thumb over a nipple, a look of discomfort crossing her features before she bit her bottom lip and turned her face away from him.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes my lord, it's nothing."

He slid his hand down and found her ready enough to take him. Trying to thrust into her proved challenging, had he not been present the night he'd taken her maidenhead he would swear to the Seven she was yet still the maid of Tarth. At the least he knew she'd been faithful to him, no playing with errant Lannister cousins or hedge knights.

He pulled out and slowly thrust again, watching her face as she held her lip. "Seven fucking hells; why are you still so bloody tight?"

"Sorry my lord." She breathed out through clenched teeth. He caught her hand as she tried to hold onto the furs below them.

"Jaime," he groaned, pulling out and pushing in again until he was enveloped in her cunt completely. "My name is Jaime."

The first kiss startled her, he'd never done more than rutted above her and the shock registered in her eyes. The blue had receded into a half ring as a black pool took them over. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip to get her to open for him, realizing he'd never taught her this. Had never allowed himself to enjoy the way she clenched around his cock or the feel of her hand tentatively holding his shoulders.

Her kisses were clumsy and full of teeth and no finesse and he could do nothing more than press kisses onto her eager mouth over and over as his hips crashed into her. He swallowed her moans and whimpers hungrily until he spilled his seed inside her with a final push.

He rolled off of her sweating and panting and felt alive again. He turned to his side to collect her in his arms and found her sitting up.

"Where are you going?" He demanded.

"To my room my lord, Septa Donyse will be waiting to ready me for bed." She sounded out of breath but did not have the look of a well tumbled bride.

"Will you not stay here with me?"

"I do not under...why?"

"Have you not thought of me at all wench? What of the babe?"

She turned large blinking, distrusting eyes on him as though she were looking at a lackwit. He was turning into Florian the Fool and his lady wife was no Jonquil. He had been truthful about Cersei in the beginning . It was easier, he had thought, to make sure she held no false hopes as Lady Lannister, they both had a duty and nothing more.

That was before he'd danced with Brienne with a sword in her hand, before he'd spent hours in the training yard being knocked into the ground by her strong thrusts and fierce blows. Before he'd seen her smile when she'd bested Addam after a grueling bout that had drawn blood from them both. Before he knew what kindness without intent was, before the gentle press of his lady wife's fingers as she rubbed salve into his stump when it blistered from the golden hand.

Even as he lived in those moments with Brienne his mind was always on Cersei, the Cersei of his youth who beguiled him. Being away from both of them allowed his mind to catch up with his heart.

Jaime positioned himself behind Brienne, tracing the taut skin of her belly. "Your gift will be useless for a time. I had new armor fitted for Tyrek's name day tourney, I'd hoped to best you on the field."

The babe fluttered somewhere under his fingers and he felt an ache in chest at the thought of holding his own child. Brienne did nothing to stop him and her breathing had returned to normal, but her hands were clasped in her lap. Her distrust evident in the set of her shoulders and the stiffness in her spine, Jaime smiles into her skin, humming as his fingers draw languid circles down her side and over the soft flesh of her thighs.

"What are you doing?" Brienne asked suspiciously.

"Something stupid."

 


End file.
